


Not Alone

by BelladonaBaggins



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonaBaggins/pseuds/BelladonaBaggins
Summary: In the midst of a recurring sickness and the attacks of the tendrils of the nightmares from his enslavement in Skandia, Will could never feel more alone. A few reassuring words would break his shell, but he can’t find the strength to confront the issue and defeat it—not alone, at least.Also on fanfiction.net
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty
Comments: 21
Kudos: 72





	Not Alone

Not Alone

-

Will pulled the heavy wool blanket tighter over his shoulders as he sensed it starting to droop. Staring off into the woods ahead was strangely sleep-inducing, even though he had been doing so for about ten minutes or so. All was quiet in the fading day, except for the light chirp of crickets and the occasional low whistling of an owl or bird. In the remaining quiet of the atmosphere, Will felt so alone.

Not as alone as he did in the slave yard in Skandia, or even more so as he did in the tight, cold sleeping quarters—if they could even be called that—in the dark, freezing nights that still seemed to numb his mind even after being home for almost three months.

The cold was almost as bad as the loneliness. Skandia’s endless winter still bit his marrow as if he was still there, though winter still had yet to arrive yet.

Will shivered despite himself, and tried to unlock his squeezed-shut eyes, clawing for an escape from the nightmare that was his terrible enslavement from months ago. He found it hard to open his eyes, and when he did, he let out a breath. His heart beat faster than normal.

Sighing, he tipped his head to the side, leaning onto a beam holding up the roof of the veranda of Halt’s cabin in the woods.

Halt.

He would be back soon, Will told himself, sighing again, and wiped at his nose with his sleeve. He had gone on a mission a few days ago to deal with a robbery of some of Baron Arald’s tax files that would be sent back to Castle Redmont soon, from the villiage’s mayor. Halt took both Tug and Abelard to make for a quicker trip chasing the bandits, then back home.

Will did not come along, of course—not while he was still suffering through one of those sicknesses that came every once in a while after Skandia. Will had protested when Halt ordered him to stay behind, and after a particular long—and not to mention loud—coughing fit, Halt made his point, and commanded his apprentice to stay home and rest, and drink tea instead of coffee to smooth his sore throat, runny nose, and fever away.

That was two days ago—seemingly forever when Will was all alone and occasionally resting for hours on end. When he wasn’t doing that, however, with some strength he managed to get some chores done, but only every once in a while. Sniffling and coughing every few seconds or minutes was draining, but it wasn’t nothing he couldn’t handle. He had endured worse episodes of this sickness every few weeks; one particular relapse had lasted four weeks, and that started only two days after returning home from Skandia and Castle Araluen. Four weeks of being strictly confined to bed by Halt, and of coughing up part of his lungs each time he tried to move… and of not training. Halt understood for the most part why Will’s Ranger skill waxed and waned with each bout of sickness, but Will wasn’t satisfied. He couldn’t help but feel with each wave of sickness that his skill was actually worsening.

This relapse was one of the shorter ones—at least, that’s what Will hoped—and would last until the end of the week. Whatever Skandia slave yard had done to him, it was enough to cause… this.

Will grunted in anger, immediately sending him into a coughing fit that made him double over and sink to the veranda steps in pain. Halt would scold him for not drinking enough tea to help with his scratchy throat. Well. It wasn’t Will’s fault that the stuff smelled—and tasted—like something you might find growing in wild undergrowth in an abandoned brush.

Leaves and water. That’s all tea was. Not coffee. Delicious coffee, where you could add as much flavorful honey as you wanted to the coffee water. Tea was just tasteless. Add honey to that, or even milk, and you would ruin it. Will huffed again, and this time, he didn’t cough.

After a few minutes of waiting and watching, something trembled in the woods ahead, revealing a short horse and its rider, with another shaggy, barrel-shaped pony behind it; no reins—Tug didn’t need to be led by his reins; he would follow Halt and Abelard as bid. With a wide smile threatening to bring on another coughing fit, Will stood up, shakily at first, and waved his hand to greet Halt. The Ranger acknowledged him with a nod from beneath the hood of his mottled cloak. Shedding the blanket, Will went over to the lean-to and immediately greeted Tug with a large, red apple and a few pats on the neck.

Halt grunted as he began unsaddling Abelard, who was jealously watching Tug munch on the apple. “Spoiled horse,” he mumbled.

Will only grinned, and fought off a cough as best he could, disguising it with a clearing of his throat. Halt looked over at him with an eyebrow raised anyways—he had pulled down his hood; no need for hiding his face from his apprentice, Will knew.

“Feeling any better?” Halt asked, watching with arms crossed as Will unsaddled Tug.

Will shrugged, fumbling with the girth with sweaty fingers, and finally heaved the saddle off of Tug’s back—with slight difficulty from his weakened muscles—and mounted it on the tack wall.

“Not in a talking mood?” Halt said.

Will gave him a heavy glance. “Too many questions,” he said, and he almost finished the last word if it wasn’t for that stupid cough. It lasted several more seconds than usual, and when he was finished, he found himself half-lying against the wall, holding his head to steady himself. Halt was by his side when he looked up, staring at him inquisitively, if not with the slightest bit of concern.

“I’m fine, Halt,” Will croaked.

“Of course you are.”

Will sighed, and coughed again. An angry scoff afterwards sent him into another coughing fit again. When that was over, he was halfway from pitifully lying on the floor and fighting with his own lungs.

Gently, surprisingly, Will felt Halt heaving him to his feet. “Come on, now,” Halt said. “Back inside with you. Gorlog knows you’ve not slept at all when I was away.”

Will obliged and let Halt lead him back inside, one arm carefully wrapped around his shivering shoulders. Halt didn’t seem to notice the shivering yet, fortunately.

“I’ve actually gotten quite a bit of sleep,” Will murmured just quiet enough to not upset his weak lungs. “Slept more than did chores, if you wanted to know.”

“Hmm,” Halt said levelly. He threw the blanket over Will’s shoulders as they stepped up the veranda and inside. It was cold inside the cabin; Will hadn’t bothered to light more than two logs in the fireplace per night since he hadn’t the strength to properly wield an axe for more firewood.

Halt motioned for Will to lie on the couch, where he had made his living haven for the past few days—in front of the fireplace for maximum warmth when it was available, and made out of a mess of blankets and pillows from his bed to keep comfortable when he wasn’t coughing or shivering his bones to fine powder.

Wordlessly, Halt made no hesitation in lighting a bunch of logs in the fireplace then settling into his own chair across from it and directly next to Will. Will groaned and tried to push Halt’s hands away when he reached for him, but Halt gently pried them down to feel his forehead.

“The fever isn't much better than when I left.” Halt’s voice was level, but he was speaking directly to Will even though his body begged for sleep. The man looked at Will almost accusingly. “Sicknesses don’t just go away untreated, Will.”

Will nodded but turned away from Halt’s eyes.

“Have you even eaten?”

“Hurts to eat anything.”

“Aha. What about that tea I gave you? The healer said it would help with your throat.”

“Hurts to drink anything.”

Halt sighed.

“I’ll be fine, Halt,” Will said, slightly frustrated. “Just fine. I just need more rest, right?” He blindly reached for a blanket and pulled it over his head.

Will could practically feel Halt’s glare through the thick wool blanket. Huffing, Halt said, “Think you can take care of yourself all on your own, don’t you?” Will heard Halt stand up. “See how that works out.”

Reluctantly, Will drew back the blankets and turned to view Halt putting a coffee pot over a stove. No coffee beans, of course—Halt had taken special care to hide the stock where Will couldn’t find it… well, at least where Will didn’t have to energy to find.

“It’s worked out well so far,” Will half-grumbled, but loud enough for Halt to hear. A year ago—almost two!—he’d never have back-talked Halt, the legendary Ranger who killed men just by glaring at them. Will’s wit had not laxed since then, but only when he grew more familiar with his master.

Halt grunted again.

Will did too, but it came out more as a pitiful half-scoff and half-cough. “If you had it your way, you’d have already forced about twenty different types of painkilling drugs, teas, and sleeping medicine down my throat by now.”

“Don’t tempt me, Will.”

All of a sudden, Will’s face turned hard, and his voice more bitter. “I don’t need any drugs or herbs in my system, thank you very much. I’ve had my share, and for a long enough time, too.”

That made Halt start, at least, and Will almost smiled triumphantly, if it wasn’t for the shadow of depression that always seemed to loom a foot behind him—the shame and nightmares of his warmweed addiction. Just thinking about it made him shiver instinctively, and he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the memory… only to find himself back in Skandia, feeling the terrible warmth of the drug biting away at the cold. Will couldn’t decide whether he hated the feel of the unforgiving cold more than the nightmarish warmweed.

Will heard himself gasp, and felt himself reach out blindly for the real world, scratching the surface to cling to it again. He couldn’t, and his heart began racing.

Get me out, get me out, get me out!

They were as bad as the nightmares, these flashbacks. Oftentimes he feared he’d never return. These deep memories were almost as tangible as real life—the cold, the loneliness. Will could almost remember the taste of the warmweed blocking out the cold of the slave yard, but the cold still surrounded him and seemed to burn his skin, and the loneliness swallowed him in a pit as dark as a void.

Help! Get me out! Please!

The battle to force his eyes open was not easily won. Memories continued to overwhelm him; not only the memories of the cold and lonesomeness, but of pain, raw and red and bloody. Pain like fire slashing across his back again and again and again and again and again until he had no concept of what painlessness was. Of what it felt like to cry for his wounds, because too many tears had been spent already, and his body was exhausted. Most of the time he had spent addicted to that stupid drug merely masked the beatings, the whippings, but the pain from them was only all the more real with the memories.

Please. Get me out.

Vaguely, in real life, Will was aware of someone’s presence over him. Startled, he opened his eyes and began moving to defend himself, then realized he was sprawled on the floor near the couch, blankets and limbs tangled in each other. His heart skipped a beat before he saw it was Halt who was next to him, not the Skandian taskmaster.

“... Will? Are you alright?” Halt’s voice slowly became audible as Will crawled out of the dark pit of memories in the back of his head. It felt as though he had been there for an eternity.

Will could have sighed in relief; he was home. Halt was there. Tug and Abelard. He was safe and warm. The scent and taste and feel of that drug washed away with the warmth coming from the fireplace. Only the nag of the illness was what made him feel… not right. No, that wasn’t all of it.

Then he realized he had started crying when he opened his eyes, and was staring at Halt all the while. Embarrassed, Will sat up and scrubbed at his eyes and wiped away the tears, turned so Halt couldn’t see.

“Will.” Halt put a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder.

“‘m sorry, Halt. Just…” Will’s cheeks were on fire; Halt didn’t know about those haunting memories of Skandia that attacked him every time he was reminded of it. He couldn’t explain it. How could Halt understand?

“It had to do with Skandia,” Halt said softly. It wasn’t a question.

Will paused, then nodded. Still he couldn’t bear to look at his master.

Halt sighed. “I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean… I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Will croaked. It wasn’t okay. Not really. It wasn’t Halt’s fault of course. Never that. Partially supporting himself on the arm of the couch, Will stood up on wobbly feet, and stared into the fireplace, warming his hands and arms when he didn’t use them to block his coughing.

“You know I want to take care of you, Will.”

He nodded.

Head bowed, Halt sighed again. “Whatever you went through in Skandia, and being sick now… you know you don’t have to suffer it all on your own.”

Will almost cringed, but nodded again.

“Why won’t you let me, then? Take care of you.”

This time Will cringed for real. He turned his head away to make for certain that Halt couldn’t see his face. He let out a shaky breath, then said, “I can do it by myself.”

“You don’t have to, Will.” Was Halt’s voice… gentle? Friendly?

Will turned to him, face scrunched up. “I don’t want to be a burden to you, Halt. I’ve so many things… wrong with me. It’s for me to deal with, not you. After all, they’re my nightmares. Everybody has to deal with their own.”

A long, heavy silence passed between them, and the tension did not leave Will’s newly, shivering body, despite being directly in front of the fireplace.

Softly, and ever-so-gently, Halt broke the silence, saying, “You’re not a burden, Will. You’re my son.”

Those unlying words—Halt never lied; he would never lie about something like that, something that was rare and heartfelt like that—were enough to send Will into a sobbing, blubbering mess as the tension collapsed and emotion spread through him. His body willed him to hide his face, but instead drew him over to Halt, where he fell into his master’s embracing arms. Unrelentingly clutching to Halt, Will sobbed into his shoulder, and Halt returned the hug just as strong. The second time master and apprentice ever hugged, and emotions broiled over in either of them. Will could tell, even through the tears and shaky breaths.

Gently, Halt pulled away and held Will’s shoulders at an arm’s length. Will was surprised to see the glistening of unshed tears brimming his master’s dark eyes. His emotion was genuine. Genuine.

“You know I think of you that way, Will,” he said just as softly as before, “even though I don’t ever say it. I do.” His hands traveled up to Will’s red, tear-streaked face, where he, with tenderness that could be interpreted only as paternal and not pitying in any way, wiped away any remaining tears with his thumbs.

Will slid into an embrace again, tightening his arms around the other man and clutching him like a lifeline. More tears came down, but not unbidden.

“You can’t do everything by yourself,” Halt continued, voice slightly muffled by Will’s hair. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

He nodded into Halt’s shoulder. Is this what it felt like to have a father? Always a far-fetched dream for Will, but… this had to be it, even though he didn’t recognize it before now. Halt was his father. He was Halt’s son. Of course. Halt cared for him beyond being his apprentice. Of course. 

“Please don’t go,” Will murmured. “Don’t want to be alone. Don’t… I… I don’t think I… Halt… I just don’t want to be alone. I can’t…”

“I know,” Halt said, hushing him gently, not letting go. “I won’t go. You won’t be alone. We’ll take care of you, alright? You’ll be okay.”

He nodded again, and felt a chill after Halt let him go. Legs tired, he obeyed when Halt directed him to lie down on the couch, and stay put as Halt made him some tea for his throat. This time, Will didn’t resist, though he felt a flash embarrassment—which he tried to ignore.

Master and apprentice silently watched the fire eat away at the logs, each nursing a mug of tea. Will’s was a little stronger to strengthen his immune system. The new warmth in his belly managed to chase away the looming cold from his memory relapse, and eventually he found his tea finished after spending all that time distracted, thinking on his conversation with Halt and sorting out things in his mind, repiecing things that had been jumbled around during Skandia.

After Halt took the mug from his thin, bony hands, Will suddenly found himself quite tired, and he arranged the blankets to make himself comfortable. Just as he started to drift off into sleep with good, peaceful thoughts, he sensed Halt’s presence again, and opened his heavy eyelids.

“Rest, Will. You’ll be alright.”

Will cracked a weak, tired smile and shut his eyes again. The cool cloth on his forehead to fight off the fever, and Halt’s firm yet gentle grip on his hand were fully welcomed, and all tension faded away.

“Will.”

“Mm.”

“If you ever need me… if you ever need me, I’ll be here. Alright? I’ll be here to talk to.”

“Okay, Halt.”

Halt rubbed Will’s knuckles with his thumb, another fatherly gesture that Will welcomed with open arms. Just as sleep’s final waves began to take him, Will mumbled, “Love you, Halt.”

At first, he thought Halt wouldn’t answer, but that was fine. As long as Halt knew… as long as Will held the assurance that Halt saw him as his son…

Nevertheless, Halt said back, “I love you too, son.”

Feeling the sickness starting to ebb, and nightmares backing away, Will knew he was going to sleep well that night. He wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed my first RA fic here. I’ve never posted on ao3 before, so I hope it worked out correctly. I always drool over the father/son relationship between Halt and Will both in the books and in fanfics, so I decided to write this! I hope it isn’t too bad and the characters and dialogue aren’t OOC… I’ve written this over the span of two late nights after long, stressful days. Tell me what you think of this! I’d love you if you do.
> 
> Thinking of writing a multi-chapter sister-story to this fic with A LOT of whump. I am a sucker for Halt-Will whump. I’ll have to spend a few days planning it out.
> 
> Thank you for your time, and thank you for reading.
> 
> -Belladona Baggins


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